


#11 - Historyja majho zyccia

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Eurovision 2017 Fanfic Challenge [33]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, family fic, mentioned canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Faramir still feels the loss of his brother sometimes. Luckily, he has a family to keep him grounded in the present.





	#11 - Historyja majho zyccia

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a few inconsistencies, although I hope not. I haven't read the books in a few years, though.

The Numenorean stonework looked much the same as it had when Faramir was a child, despite the fact that much of it had been destroyed at Pelennor. He ran a finger over the carved patterns, recalling days of running around the palace, playing knights with his brother and a few of the other boys. He'd never been a fan of swordfighting lessons, always too small and too slow for the instructor's liking, but when Boromir barged into his chambers and stole his books to draw him out, he couldn't help but enjoy it. Boromir had always been spectacular at making people feel included. It was the reason he could never bring himself to resent his brother's popularity.

Returning to his home city for a visit had been something Faramir was looking forward to. Besides, what more joyous occasion could there be to visit than the introduction of a child into Gondor's royal house?

The problem lay in the date, something Faramir knew Aragorn and Arwen had no control over, but something which bothered him all the same. Ten years to the day since the news of Boromir's death had reached him. Even now, the date of the actual event was unclear, since it wasn't as if the Fellowship had kept a calendar.

He felt the pain behind his eyes as his throat tightened and knew he was about to cry. Yet another of the reasons his father had favored Boromir. Boromir never showed his weakness like that. Faramir had learned long ago that the only place it was safe to cry was in bed in the dark of night. Yet even then, Boromir had seemed to know when he had, because he'd always drawn him out the next day and roped him into robbing the kitchens of the tastiest morsels.

A shout in the courtyard below startled him, and he hastily wiped the unshed tears from his eyes, peering down to investigate. The familiar form of a six year old going on seven rushed into the courtyard, leaping on a stone bench and brandishing a wooden sword. Faramir couldn't help but smile at the image of Elboron, strikingly similar to Boromir with his mother's lighter hair.

Speaking of his mother, Faramir's smile extended further into a face-splitting grin as Eowyn, dress be damned, pursued their son with her own wooden blade. She made an elegant lunge at Elboron, which he dodged only due to his small stature, then quickly launched a counterattack. She parried with skill, although Faramir could tell from here she was letting him win.

"Yield, sir, you shall trespass in my territory no longer! Return what you have stolen," she cried, causing the child to giggle and reach into the pocket of his tunic. Faramir leaned forward, curious, as his son drew out what appeared to be a slightly charred muffin. Eowyn was many things, but a domestic housewife who cooked delicious meals for a tired husband? Never, and Faramir was glad of it. He appreciated her rebelliousness as much as he did her endurance, and truth be told he saw more of her than he would have if she was constantly running the household affairs. So why did it seem as if she had been attempting to bake, only for Elboron to snatch a snack from the windowsill, as young boys (and girls, he supposed) are wont to do?

"I have won my prize fairly!" Elboron replied, overjoyed as he seemed to be dominating the battle now, "I shall keep it as I see fit!"

He leapt forward for the winning blow, only to find his mother behind him, disarming him instantly and lifting him up.

"Put me down!"

"Hand over the treasure, thief," she demanded, amiably.

"No! Never!"

Faramir, deciding that this was getting ridiculous, descended the stairs. Eowyn caught sight of him first and called out, "Here, help me teach this ruffian a lesson."

"I'm not a ruffian," Elboron insisted, "She wants it for herself! Help me escape, Ada."

He took his time wandering over, pretending to size up the two fighters, before he hummed, "Well, it appears there is only one thing I can do."

And with that, he snatched the muffin for himself and took a sizeable bite out of it.

Simultaneous cries of "Hey!" followed and grinned back, unrepentant.

"See, Elboron, that's the first rule to stealing food. Eat it fast, 'cause then they won't want it back."

He barely ducked out of the way of a well-deserved swat that Eowyn had aimed at him with her sword.

"Stop teaching our son that nonsense."

"Oh please, like you didn't do the same."

"That is entirely beside the point."

As they mock-argued, they'd drawn closer together until they were mere inches apart. Faramir couldn't help but lean forward and peck a kiss to her lips, earning an, "Ew!" from Elboron. He chuckled as he drew back and gestured at the muffin, "Any more where these came from?"

Truth be told, they were bland. Not as bad as some of her previous attempts at baking, but not good either. Still, not even torture would be enough to get him to say that to her face, not when she had clearly been trying so hard. He hated that she had to live in a time when most of society measured her worth by things she had no interest in. The pressure she felt was presumably more than the crushing weight he'd had to be less scholarly, and he could only sympathize.

He was rewarded with a stunning smile as Eowyn led him (and Elboron, who was still hungry) back to the kitchen she'd been demolishing. She handed more burnt snacks to the both of them and looped an arm around his shoulders as they watched their son expend inexhaustible energy.

"I hope they're not too bad," she said quietly after many minutes had passed in comfortable silence, "I know I'm not as skilled as everyone wants me to be, but I wanted to do something to cheer you up. I know what today means to you."

Faramir stared at her. This was all for him?

"You know, I miss him a lot, I really do. But I see him in Elboron every day, and I think he would have been proud. He would've been over the moon about you, too. I don't think anyone in Minas Tirith would've been safe if the two of you had teamed up. The past can be haunting, but with you and Elboron, I can never forget just how wonderful the present really is."


End file.
